


Notoriety

by aphelion_orion



Category: Magna Carta: Tears of Blood
Genre: M/M, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphelion_orion/pseuds/aphelion_orion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not easy having a pretty face in the army, and an influential friend. There will be talk long before anything happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Notoriety

**Title:** Notoriety  
**Fandom:** Magna Carta  
**Rating:** PG-15  
**Pairing:** Calintz/Agreian  
**Warning:** Nothing you didn't expect to see in the game at some point.

  


**Notoriety**

The rumors were flying long before anything ever happened.

Of course, his reputation as the deadly, merciless mercenary captain helped to keep the mouths of the common ranks shut in his presence, but Calintz would have had to be deaf not to hear the whispers, and blind and stupid not to feel the eyes on him whenever he passed, some disdainful, some covetous. The esteemed commanders were less inclined to keep their opinions to themselves, but for the most part too refined to fall out of role in polite company. Still, there were not too many ways one could interpret being called, "the General's pet."

Most of the Tears of Blood took offense to this, of course, and Calintz remembered quite vividly having to restrain an enraged Haren from punching General Tazma's lights out. That, although satisfying, would have been something of a mess. Calintz, however, had learned to take it in stride—there would always be talk, no matter what he did or did not do to earn or deny it.

"The army is worse than a bunch of small-town gossipmongers," General Agreian had said when the matter had come up one late evening, lips quirking into a rueful smile, and they had shared a private laugh about the entire thing before returning to their tryst with the maps and espionage reports.

Regardless, the rumors had been flying for a long time before there was even anything to have rumors _about_. Calintz had, in fact, become so used to chalking up the atmosphere between them to the strange feeling of familiarity—something that he could neither trace nor explain, however long he thought about it—that when something finally did happen, it came as a surprise.

\----

"I am glad that you made it back safely."

Calintz looked up to find General Agreian looking back at him, a strange expression in his eyes, his gaze not at all fixed on the mission report in his hands. It was a look that made him acutely conscious of the picture he had to present, sweaty with his hair and clothes in disarray, his cheeks smudged with ash and dirt. He had come here as soon as he had finished the report—which he had written as soon as they had returned from the mission—with no time to bathe, or even make himself marginally presentable.

"Thank you. It was a difficult task, but we would never disappoint you, General."

The General smiled.

"_Agreian_," he corrected, the barest hint of fond exasperation behind the word. "And of course I am glad that the Tears of Blood have carried out their mission so reliably. But what I meant is... I am glad that _you_ made it back safely."

The deliberation behind those words took Calintz by surprise, but he managed to prevent it from showing on his face. "Thank you for your concern. But there was no need—"

"I know," General Agreian said. He turned, placing the report in a folder on his desk. When he turned back around, his smile was gone, a contemplative frown hovering at the corners of his mouth. "And yet... I find myself worrying."

There was an awkward silence as Calintz found himself at a loss for an appropriate response, and eventually, Agreian shook his head.

"I suppose a general should not be saying these things." He paused, and when he continued, his voice was softer, half talking to himself, "But then again, when have I last spoken as a general to you, when we were alone?"

Once again, Calintz had no idea what to say, not when the General seemed to be giving words to what had been on his mind for the longest time. He had never been able to explain the amount of trust he had in Agreian, or the things that seemed to pass between them in quiet moments, private, almost secret. It had little to do with Agreian's reputation as a commanding officer, and everything to do with something that seemed to be forever hovering out of his reach.

"Isn't it strange…" Agreian murmured, looking at him searchingly, and Calintz realized all of a sudden how close he had gotten, close enough for him to notice that Agreian's eyes were actually a shade of amber, the same color as the glow of an earth talisman. "Isn't it strange… that I feel as if I know…?"

Calintz stared back at him, unblinking, wondering what Agreian was looking for, wondering if it would be the same, and what would happen if it was. He did not know why, but it seemed important somehow.

The moment shattered when Agreian blinked and abruptly turned away, leaving Calintz to stare at the rigid line of his back. "You must be tired. It would be best if you returned."

"Ge—Agreian?"

"I am afraid your reputation is not quite as safe with me as I had first assumed."

Despite the unmistakable meaning of those words, it still took Calintz a moment to fully comprehend, and when he did, something in him seized up and started trembling at the realization that this was it. This was part of the answer he was looking for.

"I… understand," he said quietly.

When he did not move, Agreian slowly turned back to regard him. "You—"

"I understand."

Agreian's lips curled into a smile, something of the strange light from earlier flaring in his eyes. "Then you would not object if I were to kiss you?"

How strange, that he should be able to answer such a question utterly without shame. "…No."

There was another moment of silence before Agreian stepped forward, leaning in.

The thrill that ran through him at the first touch of their lips almost made Calintz forget to close his eyes. He was, admittedly, not very apt at this, as kissing tended to lose importance when one was fighting for survival, but Agreian did not seem to mind very much.

His fingers were threading through the loosened twist of hair at the back of Calintz's head, his other hand pressing firmly against Calintz's hip, leather on skin, guiding him—one step, another step, and Calintz might have been a little too entranced by the feel of mouth on mouth because he hit the map table with a thud, scattering leaflets and reports everywhere.

Agreian did not seem to mind that very much, either.

When the kiss finally ended, Calintz found himself half-sitting on the table, both hands gripping Agreian's upper arms and one leg very nearly between his thighs. He was not sure if there were any rules written down about the code of conduct for kissing a superior officer, but he was fairly certain that he had violated several of those in the space of about five minutes.

Agreian's fingers curled around the fasteners of his tabard. "May I?"

His voice sounded breathless.

"Here?" Calintz asked, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that they were in the tactics tent, and of the chaos spreading across the map table behind them.

"You object?"

The mild tone, coupled with Agreian's utter disregard of their location, reminded him of something, a dim recollection of wooden swords and a once-immaculate flowerbed as the unfortunate battlefield—_You mind?_—but he could not place it.

He shook his head.

There was no privacy to be had in a camp, not with two layers of cloth and a few steps separating people from each other.

His breath hitched when Agreian pulled the zipper down, gloved hands parting the fabric, trailing down his side.

"There will be talk," he murmured, little more than a _pro forma_ objection, shivering when fingers tugged on the lacing of his pants.

Calintz had never thought that there would be a day when he would have to attribute the word "mischievous" to the General's expression, but there was no other name for the gleam in his eyes.

"Isn't there always? We might as well give them a _reason_ to talk."

  
\- Fin -

\----

**A/N:** Oh, Magna Carta, what might have been. Even without the bait-and-switch slash. C&amp;C is highly appreciated.


End file.
